


Johnnie Winchester

by morrezela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, F/M, Pregnancy, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnnie Winchester never set out to become a mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Johnnie Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Wincest, gender change
> 
> A/N: This is my seventeenth fill for my AU Bingo Card. The square is ‘Alt. History: Someone is born a different sex and/or gender than canon.’
> 
> So I had a poll on this, that girl!Sam won. But there was a good deal of interest expressed in seeing girl!John, so I thought I’d just change them both. Then, for some damned reason, I wrote it in first person.
> 
>  
> 
> All mistakes you find are my own.

I never intended to become a mother. Never wanted it really, and I think that Sammy, somewhere inside of her, always knew that. Dean knew it too, but Dean was Mary’s son. As rough and tumble as he was, Dean had a heart of gold underneath. For all of Sammy’s empathy, Dean was the one who understood our family better than anyone.

Sam though, Sam took after her mother: stubborn, prideful and so damned sure of herself that she didn’t ever hesitate. We started fighting the day that Sammy said her first word and never stopped until she got on that bus to go off to Stanford.

I was pissed that day, but I couldn’t say that I didn’t see it coming. I’d done the same thing when I was her age. Only instead of going to college to find myself a nice boy to settle down with, I boarded a bus and enlisted in the marines. I was called a dyke a lot back in those days. I was tall and butch. I fit the mold.

And even though it was meant as a taunt and a slur, it was true.

Being a lesbian back in the seventies wasn’t like being one in the modern world. It wasn’t even like being one in the eighties or nineties. It wasn’t something you spoke about or acknowledged, and I threw away to idea of finding somebody special to start a family with the day that I chose to respect my own sexual leanings.

I hadn’t counted on meeting Mary. All soft curves and feminine prettiness, Mary was an angel complete with Farrah Fawcett hair. I was smitten. That woman could have talked me into anything, so I figured that a life of lies in suburbia with a couple of bastard children wasn’t that much for her to ask.

Dean’s father was some model working his way across the country, trying to make it to California to be an actor. I was not so sure that his smarts were that high, but he was pretty enough that I would’ve considered sleeping with him if he was in drag. Mary certainly didn’t have any troubles seducing him, and I admit that I was jealous of that man for damn near a year after he knocked my woman up.

Even when Dean was born, I didn’t fall in love with him right away. Mary did, but she’d been in love with him from the moment that he started kicking up a storm in her belly. All I could see in that tiny baby were reminders of the man that I’d let fuck my lover. The pretty green eyes, the stupidly plump lips… it wasn’t until I took Dean shopping and at the tender age of eleven months he tried to shoplift a toy car that I started feeling parental towards him. Mary, of course, had been scandalized by the whole ordeal. I thought it was funny.

We had a pretty happy family going. When Mary said she wanted to try for a baby brother or sister for Dean, I agreed. Mr. Model hadn’t taken long to do the job the first time with Dean-o, and Dean needed somebody in his life to take him down a peg or five. He was too adorable for his own good. Whatever else his father might have been, the guy was clearly heading into the right field of work if the kinds of acts that Dean pulled off were any indication. The kid regularly got by with everything.

But time after time, man after man, Mary couldn’t get knocked up. It started taking a toll on our relationship. I knew that she wasn’t cheating. I knew that I couldn’t give her what she wanted, and that some random guy’s sperm was going to have to do the job because there was no way that a single woman with a child would be allowed to adopt another. Even if Mary did convince them, there was no way that we would pass the background checks. The locals might have turned a blind eye and bought our story about her being my widowed sister-in-law, but no adoption agency worth their salt would buy that for a moment.

The lack of a second baby wore on her, and all of the men wore on me. Eventually I took her far out of town to a specialist. He informed Mary that it was a miracle that she’d ever gotten pregnant with Dean to begin with. She had scar tissue and damage to her insides that should’ve made conception impossible.

The news almost broke her. She refused to talk about what could have caused it, but I knew that it had to have been that bastard father of hers. That man had rubbed me the wrong way from the get go, and I always suspected that he wasn’t exactly the loving father he pretended to be.

As months dragged by, Mary didn’t get better. She’d had her hopes pinned on that second baby. And while I had a general aversion to penises, I finally came up with the brilliant idea of having the baby for her. I think that it was the best anniversary gift I could’ve given her. I can still see her smile, the disbelief and hope warring in her eyes that came from my offer.

Sam’s father was a college student working his way across the country to make tuition. He was tall and awkward looking. I picked him because he seemed intelligent enough to make a smart kid and desperate enough to sleep with the butchest woman in three counties. I didn’t exactly enjoy the experience, and I hated being pregnant.

Mary said that I’d love my baby, and I did. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids a lot. I just never wanted to have anything growing inside of me. I was never the kind of girl to sit around dreaming of babies. But when Sammy came into the world, red faced and bawling, the only person falling instantly into love with her was her big brother.

Not even Mary doted on that baby the way Dean did, and I suppose that I should have been happy about that. After the demon came and killed Mary, I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to show affection to Samantha. I was angry at everyone and everything. I was even angry at Mary for dying, for leaving me with children I never wanted. It didn’t matter that I loved them; they weren’t my idea.

Looking back at it now, I wondered if things would’ve been different if I had pulled myself together.

Oh, who was I kidding? I knew things would have been different. Dean didn’t deserve to have to take on the emotional care of his remaining parent and baby sister. Sammy didn’t deserve to have a mother who didn’t understand her and couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that her own flesh and blood liked cock.

Dean I got. We had scarily similar taste in women. Sam was the mystery. She was always angry at something, and Dean was the only one that could ever look at her and know what was going on inside her head. I was always the one fumbling around, trying to play mother and failing miserably. I was a better drill sergeant than I was a parent, or so Sam always told me.

But when it came down to it, I still should have known what was going on long before I did.

It had been years since Sam had gone off to Stanford. Years since Dean and I started hunting separately. Oh, I knew that he still sneaked off to see his sister. I knew that there was no good reason for him to keep hanging around the west coast like some un-burnable specter, but I let it be. Dean and I didn’t talk about Samantha.

But Dean and I did talk. We talked legends and strategies and leads on the demon that had killed his mother. We traded stories and hunts and would even lower our pride to call each other for backup if things got a little too tense. I thought that we were close. I forgot that after I gave birth, there was always one person closer to Dean than anybody else.

Bobby Singer was the one to tell me that Dean had quit the business. I hated that man so badly sometimes that it made my blood boil. He’s a good hunter, and excellent resource, but I never did like the disapproval in his eyes when it came to the kids. He always had this expression that said I wasn’t raising them right. I always had one right back for him that said I was raising them to survive.

When Bobby finally told me, I was more worried than angry at the news. Dean wouldn’t have stopped hunting. It just wasn’t who he was, and I told Bobby as much in a fit of righteous fury.

In retrospect, I should’ve realized that there was something else going on. Bobby’s paranormal instincts were as good as mine, and he knew Dean almost as well. There was something he wasn’t saying, but I was too far gone to catch the nuances in his speech, the things he left unsaid.

Tracking down Dean wasn’t easy or hard. It was a little challenging, but he hadn’t gone deep. Whatever had enthralled him hadn’t made him completely lose his senses. I kept that as a sign that there was still hope for saving my boy from whatever nasty had gotten its claws into him.

I finally tracked him down in Colorado. The Impala was sitting in the parking lot of a nicer looking motel, and I sat outside listening to Dean fuck his ever loving brains out for over half the night. The girl, the thing he was with was quiet as he screwed her. It gave me no indication of what it was, but that was okay. I’d gotten both myself and Dean out of worse situations.

It was nearly morning when Dean finally stopped. There wasn’t going to be enough whiskey in the world to erase the memory of having to listen to my own son having that noisy of sex for that long. I promised myself that once the thrall was lifted from him, I was going to beat it into his head that making that much noise would be sure to bring the authorities at some point.

I sat, crouched under the window of the motel room, watching the sun rise. I waited.

“You know that truck isn’t exactly stealthy,” Sam’s voice sent me to my feet, and I drew a bead on my own daughter before my brain caught up with my hands.

Her hair was longer than it had been the last time I’d seen her. She’d filled out from the skinny girl she’d been to a beautiful woman. A part of me felt maternal pride at her. Then I realized that she was standing there in nothing but a thin robe. The material was clinging to her body in the way that only cheap, manmade fabric could. There was no disguising anything, least of all the swell of her stomach.

“There’s a back door on the place, in case you’re wondering how I got out here without you noticing,” Sam continued, but my ears were buzzing with the force of the blood pounding through them.

“No,” I croaked out.

Sam always was a smart girl. She didn’t bother pretending that she didn’t understand.

“You know that we aren’t actually related.”

“He’s your brother,” I told her, shaking my head even as I lowered my gun.

“As of three weeks ago, he’s my husband,” Sam corrected me. She was uncharacteristically gentle in how she said it, and I had the horrible, sinking feeling that it wasn’t her idea to hide all of this from me.

My eyes darted towards the still closed motel room door, and she nodded once. “He felt like he had to choose between us.”

I wanted to say that he didn’t, but the words wouldn’t come. How could they? As far as I’d ever thought about it, they were Mary’s kids. They were her babies. People didn’t go sleeping around with, marrying their siblings.

“You want me to tell him you stopped by?” Sam asked me.

I wanted to glare at her for it, accuse her of thinking me a horrible mother, but I didn’t. I couldn’t because she was right. I was going to leave. I was going to hunt for the thing that killed my Mary. Maybe by the time that quest was finally over, I’d be able to face the utter failure that was my rearing of my children.

Until then, I had nothing left to say.


End file.
